


Enjoy the Glow

by ienablu



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outside the Shatterdome, Chuck and Mako share a joint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy the Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of Las. And because I am on vacation for the next three days, and I can't think of a better way to start it than staying up all night working on fic. But mostly because of Las.

They sit outside, against the Shatterdome.

Max is trotting back to Chuck, slobber-covered tennis ball in his mouth. Chuck switches the joint to his left hand, picks up the tennis ball with his right, and launches it towards the helipad. After wiping the excess drool off, he switches the joint back to his right hand, and takes a deep inhale.

He breathes the smoke out to the right, and hands the joint to Mako on his left.

She sets her pen down and takes the joint.

Their fingers don't touch.

Nor do their shoulders, nor their elbows, nor their hips nor knees.

She switches the joint to her left hand, and picks her pen back up. She smokes and she sketches. Modifications for Gipsy, not like they'll do any good at this point. One double event down, another inevitable, there's no time to work on whatever restorations she wants to continue.

He bites his tongue against a comment, just as he bit his tongue on first sight of the sketches.

Max is panting as he approaches, stub of a tail wagging fiercely. He drops the ball right next to Chuck's hip.

Chuck spends a good minute rubbing just above his nose, then picks up the ball. He feints throwing it once, twice, and the third time lets it sail.

Max barks happily, and chases it again.

Mako holds the joint out, and Chuck takes it from her once more.

It’s not really a peace offering, more of a temporary ceasefire.

Chuck doesn’t understand the war between them, doesn't understand how what seems like a victory feels like a loss. The only thing he understands about them is that in the grand scheme of things, it's not important.

He takes a long inhale, smoke burning his lungs, before he finally breathes out.

As extensive as the Kaidonovskys' influence goes -- went -- they were only able to get one joint to Mako. If there were two, Chuck knows Mako would not be sharing. She would have one for herself, he would have one for himself, like Sydney, or Vladivostok.

This had started five years ago, 

Five years ago, he had told her to chill out, and presented a joint as an option. She had been in a snit about him already having a kaiju kill under his belt while the marshal kept stonewalling her from even entering the Jaeger Academy. At first the smoking had been defiant, she hadn't wanted to back down from what they both knew was a challenge.

Though Los Angeles and then Nagasaki, smoking together grew more friendly, back to how they had been when they were younger.

Through Tokyo and then Lima, as rationing and casualties rose in frequency, it started getting more strained.

Everywhere but open ports started rationing, casualties of jaeger pilots were getting higher and higher, while Shatterdome after Shatterdome got shut down.

They stopped talking, and they aren't talking still. 

It's starting to get cold. Chuck lets the joint hang out of the corner of his mouth, as he flips up his collar, zips his coat the rest of the way up.

His coat going to smell faintly of smoke by the time they're done, not that his father is going to be surprised.

Chuck knows his father doesn't approve, and his father then knows Chuck thinks that's a load of shit. It wasn't Chuck's memories that had found him the dealer in Sydney, it wasn't his memories that taught him how to shotgun.

If Pentecost knows, neither Mako or his father let on.

He expects he'll find out eventually.

He passes the joint back to Mako.

She sets her pen down.

Chuck remembers picking up the pen back in Nagasaki, drawing a tic-tac-toe grid in the corner of her sketch pad. She had been angry at first, and in retaliation won four matches in a row.

She takes the joint, and it's been smoked down enough that there's no way to avoid the brush of fingers.

Hers are colder than his own.

Chuck turns his attention back to Max.

They don’t relax — neither of them really know how to, especially around each other.

But as time goes on, and the chill of the night sets in, brushing fingers turns into brushing elbows, into brushing shoulders. There's barely anything left in the joint as he raises his arm up, as she moves in an inch closer.

He takes one more drag, filling his chest with the smoke, before exhaling heavily.

Mako has set her sketchpad to the side, and takes the remainder of the joint. She smokes it leisurely, her head tilted back, against the worn leather of his coat and the concrete of the dome, staring up at the stars.

Time passes. A bitter wind stirs up around the time Chuck starts to feel his arm fall asleep. 

Mako pushes back against his arm for a moment, before rising to her feet in a fluid movement.

Chuck rolls his shoulders a few times, then pushes himself to standing.

She reaches down and picks her sketchpad back up.

Max has since lost interest in the tennis ball, and is instead exploring the equipment still left out. Chuck wets his lips, and whistles sharply. "C'mere Max," he calls out, voice rough. He clears his throat, but Max is already trotting back over.

Chuck knows this is the perfect opportunity to apologize. There's probably a list of things he could apologize for, needs to apologize for, and Mako probably has them listed in chronological order and memorized. Even if he doesn't have her memory, he can think of a few key things that happened lately to apologize for.

He doesn't.

He doesn't thank her either, although he knows he should do that too.

Instead, he just nods, tightly.

She purses her lips, and nods back.

They walk back into the Shatterdome in silence.

He almost wants to say something, but decides against it.

It isn't important.


End file.
